


hidden hills beneath the surface

by coloredink



Series: Yet Another Hannigram S1 AU [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 06:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloredink/pseuds/coloredink
Summary: It's not literal curtain fic in that Hannibal and Will do not literally buy curtains...but they do redesign and renovate the kitchen in their new home in Southern Maryland, in preparation for a housewarming.





	hidden hills beneath the surface

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winds_wanderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winds_wanderer/gifts).



> The second half of my gift for winds_wanderer, for their Fandom Trumps Hate 2018 bid! Sorry this one somehow doesn't have any food in it. :V

"It will be your kitchen as well," Hannibal said. "You ought to have a say in how it looks."

Will sighed. "We both know you'll be spending more time in the kitchen than me. Substantially more."

"But it's still our kitchen."

Will mashed the heel of his palm against his eyes and pointed at the cabinet sample labeled OAK. He liked the wood grain; maybe it drove Hannibal crazy. But Hannibal just nodded at the saleswoman, who nodded back and made a few taps on the keys. She turned her monitor back around to show Hannibal and Will the software-generated concept, and Will found himself suddenly unsure of how the oak cabinets would fit in with the rest of the house. Nothing else had that sort of wood grain finish, and did it look weird with the light-colored countertops? Should they have a darker wood?

Some of that uncertainty must have shown on Will's face, because Hannibal turned to the saleswoman and said, "Let's try it with the dark cherry veneer. It has some of that natural wood look that you like, and also it naturally changes color with exposure to sunlight, so there's a pleasing imperfection to it as time passes," Hannibal explained to Will.

The saleswoman--Dolly, according to the badge on her desk--raised an eyebrow at Hannibal doing her job for her, but she pulled the monitor back around and made another few clicks with her mouse. When she turned the monitor around again, the cabinets had transformed to a darker, reddish color. Will studied it and thought about the sunlight slanting through the windows. This kitchen got a lot more natural sunlight than Hannibal's Baltimore home.

"Okay," he said.

The rest went quickly after that, since Hannibal conceded that he would be the one to choose all the appliances: six-burner range; two wall ovens; two refrigerators with bottom freezers; some kind of fancy microwave that was much more than "just a microwave." Will insisted on a dishwasher, and so Hannibal bought _two_ , a full-sized one and something called a "drawer dishwasher," both of which cost more than Will had spent on his first car.

They knocked down the wall between the existing kitchen and the room next door, which contained an unfortunate tiki-themed wet bar along with that pool table. That was all pulled out and replaced with more kitchen, the walls retiled, adding cabinets and counters and an island in the middle with a wine refrigerator. Will tried not to think about how much it was all costing. When he offered to do some of it himself, Hannibal had negated it with "We wanted to be in before the cherry blossoms, didn't we?" And Hannibal could hardly move into a house with an unfinished kitchen.

There were other things to do in the meantime: choose furniture; tear the carpet out of the master bedroom; fix the riding mower ( _that_ , Will was absurdly happy to do). Will needed to box his belongings and decide what he was going to keep and what he was going to give away. He wasn't sure yet whether or not he was going to put the house up for sale. Would anyone want to rent a house in the middle of nowhere, Virginia? He'd need to fix it up first.

Hannibal was selling his house. It gave Will a strange, tight feeling in his throat and his gut that felt a lot like panic, to see that FOR SALE sign go up. He tried not to examine it too deeply. After all, Hannibal was a grown man who could do what he wanted; Will just couldn't believe that what Hannibal wanted was this.

***

"We should tell Abigail," Hannibal said. "She should be invited to the party."

They were sitting on the couch; a legal pad balanced on Hannibal's knee was covered in scribbles regarding the guest list, the food, the times. The couch itself was dark brown leather; they had chosen it together. Buffy, shock of shocks, was up on the furniture with them, pressed against Hannibal's leg.

"We should," Will said. He had almost forgotten about her, during the chaos of the last few weeks and months; now he could only think that he was grateful that she hadn't been there for any of it. He tipped his head back toward the stairs. The house had four bedrooms; Abigail could spend the night, and one of them could drive her back in the morning. "We'll have to ask Alana."

"Alana will approve," Hannibal said with such certainty that Will frowned. "Alana will be there."

They drove to Port Haven on a wet, muddy day. Or rather, Hannibal drove; Will sat in the passenger seat and fidgeted. At one point, while they were stopped at a red light, Hannibal reached over and put his hand on Will's leg. Will froze. The car started moving again, and Hannibal did not move his hand. Finally, Will put his own hand on top of it.

"I'm sick of my room," said Abigail as soon as she saw them. She was well behaved, and so she was allowed to receive visitors anywhere in the facility and not just in her room or in the visitors' room. "Let's go in the greenhouse, it's nice in there."

The greenhouse was attached to the back of the building, where it got the most sun, with glass walls and glass ceilings and a profusion of plants everywhere: ferns in hanging pots; orchids with colorful, delicate blooms; even a section of pitcher plants and venus fly traps. The air was humid and smelled sickly sweet. Beyond the glass walls, they could see spring struggling to come to the mid-Atlantic: a blue sky streaked with clouds, mud churned with snow. Winter seemed to last longer every year, snowstorms landing later and later.

They sat on a stone bench in the greenhouse. Well, Hannibal and Abigail sat; Will paced, examining potted ferns and toothy fly traps. Hannibal asked after her recovery and what she was learning; Abigail replied that she was bored, that she was ready to leave, that she didn't want to start college years behind everyone else; but she seemed to be waiting for something, her eyes darting between them, her hands clutching each other in her lap.

Finally, Will couldn't take it anymore: "Hannibal and I are together."

A deafening silence descended on the greenhouse, broken not even by the buzzing of flies or the dripping of water.

"So...you were just acting like my two dads before, but now you...actually are my two dads," Abigail said, sounding incredulous.

Hannibal reached over and took one of Abigail's hands. Will saw how she clung to it desperately and thought, with dark humor, that he could relate. But Abigail didn't know what Hannibal was; what was fucked up about Will was that he knew, and yet he still wanted Hannibal to hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be okay.

"That would be an honor for me to fulfill," said Hannibal. "But ultimately, you'll be the one to decide what place we'll have in your life."

Abigail transferred that disbelieving look to Hannibal. She stared at him for a long time, as if trying to divine some kind of secret. But Hannibal was very good at keeping secrets.

"You don't need to decide today," said Hannibal. "We came to invite you to the housewarming party. It's a little ways from here, in southern Maryland, so probably you would spend the night and someone would drive you back in the morning. If that sounds like something you'd like, we'll get permission from your doctors and make plans."

Abigail took a deep, shaky breath and squeezed Hannibal's hand. "That sounds great," she said.

***

For Abigail's sake, then, they decided to keep the party small; rather than have four dozen guests at a cocktail party with canapes, which would overwhelm her, it would be a sit-down dinner with a much more intimate guest list. Will had reservations about having both Jack and Abigail there when the former was technically still investigating the latter, but he couldn't very well un-invite one of them.

"Jack can behave himself," Hannibal said. "And if he doesn't, he'll no longer be welcome in our home."

"But the damage will already be done," Will muttered.

"There will be no damage done," Hannibal said. "Jack is an adult."

 _Unlike some people here_ was the unspoken addendum, but that was just Will projecting again, he was sure. He sighed and gave it up.

The menu: too early in the season for crab, alas, and they'd eaten through Will's frozen stores before the move. So to the farmers market in Charlotte Hall they went, looking for what Hannibal called "inspiration."

Charlotte Hall actually had multiple farmers markets, the largest one being not only a farmers market but a flea market as well, open all year round under a sheltering roof. Hannibal parked the car and they walked through, past one vendor selling buttons and another selling belts; past a fast-talking furniture salesman who kept repeating the words "mid-century modern"; past a woman knitting beside a pen filled with spaniel puppies. Will's eyebrows hiked up his forehead.

They reached the farmers market section, and this reminded Will more of the market they had visited in New York: fresh pasta; fish on ice; heaps and mounds of vegetables. One vendor sold nothing but asparagus, and several bunches of that went into Hannibal's bag. Next was a vendor who sold nothing but artichokes, and Hannibal filled a bag with that, too.

"What are you thinking?" Will asked.

"That asparagus and artichokes are in season, and at the peak of their flavor," Hannibal said. "Both go well with a white wine sauce."

They'd reached a very noisy vendor, chickens clucking in cages stacked four high behind her; fluffy yellow chicks peeped from a basket on her table. The woman gave them a bright, sunny smile. Hannibal looked thoughtfully at the chickens.

"No," Will said.

"Chicken also goes well with white wine sauce," Hannibal said. The woman blinked several times, but her smile didn't budge.

"We're not slaughtering chickens at the house." Will hauled Hannibal along.

It wasn't until they'd gone about thirty feet before Will realized that he had Hannibal by the wrist. He let go and stuffed the offending hand into his pocket, then wondered if that had been too abrupt and weird. It wasn't that he was rejecting Hannibal, it was--

Will felt a light tap against his elbow. He looked, and Hannibal was looking at him.

"The sauce would be good with fish as well," Hannibal said.

Will frowned. "I thought you said you didn't want to do fish again."

"I didn't want to put pressure on you to provide the fish again, and you provided it last time," Hannibal said. "But we've some time, and I have faith in your skills as a fisherman."

"That doesn't guarantee anything," Will said, unable to repress a smile. "But I guess if I don't bring home a good haul we can always go to the store."

Hannibal tugged Will's hand out of his pocket and gave it a squeeze. "Then perhaps this is enough."

"Thank God," Will said, and was all too happy to trudge back to the car.

***

In the car, their vegetables in the back seat, Will said, "I think I liked the farmers market in Montauk better."

Hannibal made an affirming noise. "The variety here is good," he said. "But perhaps we don't need quite so much variety. There's an Amish farmers market not far away; we'll try that one next time."

"Yeah."

They rode in companionable silence for a while. Will looked out the window. The calendar said spring, but the weather hadn't gotten the memo, and they'd had a few inches of snow. It would be gone by tomorrow, but until then it gave the surrounding countryside a dusting like powdered sugar.

"Did you ever think." Will had to stop; his throat wanted to close up for no reason. "Did you think, when we went to the farmers market up there, that it would lead to this?"

Will hadn't thought that question was very coherent, but as usual Hannibal seemed able to read his mind: "Not for a moment. I can hardly believe we're here."

Will let out a relieved sigh. He reached out, blindly, and found Hannibal's hand waiting for his. "Me neither."

END.

**Author's Note:**

> [coloredink.tumblr.com](http://coloredink.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [sumiwrites.com](https://www.sumiwrites.com/) (if you wanna check out my original work)


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